She Hates
by PyromaniacObsession
Summary: "She hates the way he does that. She hates the way she looks into his eyes- grey like storm clouds in a darkening sky but soft and warm and welcoming at the same time- and falls for him just a little bit more. Just a little bit less." [Blackinnon Short-short]


**SHE HATES**

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><p><span><strong>Description<strong>**: A story based on Sirius and Marlene's relationship under the strain of the first war. **

**Rating****: K**

**Genres****: Angst **

**Category****: 1****st**** Wizarding War**

**Characters****: Sirius Black, Marlene McKinnon**

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><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>**:** **I've always been a Blackinnon shipper since I began reading Marauder Era Fanfiction and I've always thought they were rather star-crossed lovers and ill-fated at best. My take on their relationship is that they are one of the types that always fight but still love each other more than anything, and this short-short is based within the first war so the stress of it is taking its toll upon both of them. If you don't, however, like this take one their relationship, please tell me.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, despite my many attempts, I am still not J K Rowling and so do not own either Marlene McKinnon or Sirius Black or anything else from the _Harry Potter_ universe.**

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><p>It's every morning that she hates. The way the light is either too bright or too soft or too harsh, filtering through the window panes a bleeding red sunlight. The bed seems too big or too small, the pillow doesn't seem as malleable as it did the night before, and the sheets are half on the bed, half off, in that distinctly accidental messiness that she just can't stand.<p>

She hates the way that she never gets to wake up next to him. He was always an early riser, but when she had moved in with him she had never expected this. Every morning she blinks bleariness from her eyes, listening to him shuffling around the house, feet heavy on the wooden-panelled floorboards.

But she waits, waits for minutes which feel like hours, dragging down her hope that he will turn up. But he does. He always does.

Somehow she knows when he's standing at the door, across the line between the bedroom and the corridor on a principle, and she can't even begin to explain how good it feels too look up across the room to see him standing there.

He would climb back into bed most of the time, and there is either too little room between them or not enough. Sometimes they do not even touch; he slides his hand over the mattress and it's almost like he's waiting for her to respond.

Then it's her turn to make him wait. Piece by piece the world would fall away as the minutes would collect before she moved as well.

And it's like they're touching. Just not quite.

She hates the way the morning turns into evening. The way in which the house seems empty when he is not there. And the way in which nothing can be just quite perfect. The Network is either playing the wrong song for her mood, or there is not the right food in the cupboard for what she wanted to cook.

Most of the time she ends up at her dressing table, looking at the pale blond reflection in the mirror. Startlingly familiar and yet a stranger she does not recognise.

When he comes home it's like new air in her lungs. She hates the way he does that. She hates the way she looks into his eyes- grey like storm clouds in a darkening sky but soft and warm and welcoming at the same time- and falls for him just a little bit more.

Just a little bit less.

Night-time is reserved for their arguments, and she hates them too. Sometimes she'll go and hide upstairs in the bathroom, knees weak and hands wobbling as she tells herself she hates him.

She hates him.

But they end up in bed together anyway. Feet touching at the end of the mattress, eyes meeting from centimetres apart, hands clasped between them like a link, and she can swear that her heart jumps a little every times he takes a breath.

"It'll be okay," he whispers. "We'll be okay. I promise."

She doesn't know why she believes him, but she does, and she hates that too.

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><p><strong>Please leave a review.<strong>

**Over and out,**

**Emma**


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